Wash White
by ReverieChimera
Summary: England, year 1893. Ciel Phantomhive, now 17 yrs, earns himself a rival as he fails to keep up with England's rapid underworld. At the same time, Charles Grey finds himself wed-locked for the sake of an investigation. A surprise awaits them both; a mysterious woman that will lead them astray from their comfort zone-for better or for worse, 'til death do they part. -GreyxOCxCiel-
1. Story Info

**-Disclaimer: All characters appearing in this story belong to ****_Yana Toboso_****(creator of Kuroshitsuji), unless listed below or said otherwise.**

**-This story takes place in the possible future of the _manga_, not the anime.**

* * *

**~Original Main Characters~**

**...**

**Riliane** (Ril-ee-ahn)** Kingsley**

Status/Title: Younger sister of Earl Kingsley

Occupation: None

Age: 17, turning 18 soon

Height: 5''1

Hair color: black

Eye color: Bluish gray

**Wynn Kingsley**

Status/Title: Earl, Knight of Queen Victoria

Occupation: Owner of _Everlark_ weaponry & trade Co.

Age: 25 yrs

Height: 5''10

Hair color: Black

Eye color: Hazel

**Damian Cerule** (seh-rool)

Status/Title: Kingsley servant

Occupation: butler

Age: ?

Height: 6''0

Hair color: reddish brown

Eye color: gold

**~Original Supporting/Secondary Characters~**

**...**

**Charlotte Grey**

Status/Title: Lady Charlotte Grey

Age: 26

Hair color: Pale blonde

Eye color: light gray

**Gwendolynn Kingsley**

Status/Title: deceased, late Countess Kingsley

**Heinz Kingsley**

Status/Title: deceased, late Earl Kingsley

**Raeleigh**(Ry-lee)** Evans**

Status/Title: deceased

Occupation: baker, bakery owner

**Tobosa Yagiri**

Status/Title: English nobleman

Occupation: Head of the Japanese branch of Everlark Co.

Age: 20 yrs

Hair color: black

Eye color: brown

**Saesura Ambrosi**

Status/Title: Countess Ambrosi

Occupation: Owner of _Echo_ Co. Instrument manufacturing

Age: 18 yrs

Hair color: blueish black

Eye color: dark blue


	2. Chapter 1: Ball & Chain

**.: Chapter One:.**

**_"Ball & Chain"_  
**

* * *

...

**100 YOUNG WOMEN GONE MISSING IN MANCHESTER**

_17th of February, 1893_

**HUMAN TRAFFICKING SHIP DOCKED IN COASTLINE**

_23rd of February, 1893_

**80 UNIDENTIFIED IN PRESTON**

_26th of February, 1893_

**30 GRAVE ROBBERIES IN LEICESTER**

_1st of March, 1893_

**SERIES OF DISAPPEARANCES CONTINUES IN LONDON**

_3rd of March, 1893_

...

Crime among England has become an epidemic that has left poor Queen Victoria in sorrow. These are only a few of the bold captions plaguing newspaper headlines nationwide. Occurrence after occurrence. Each headline like a domino. And for every one that fell, so did the fears and morality of ten others with sinful desires. Scotland Yard has run ragged, and even her own precious Watchdog was falling, disappointingly, behind. It is of dire urgency that she feels she must train the puppy.

Another thoroughly examined newspaper was added to the growing stack beside the throne. Her majesty, adorned in an elaborate ebony dress, sat anxiously in her manicured seat. Her loyal, close-quarter servant John Brown stood stiffly by her side. His eyes obscured by a pair of large sunglasses despite being indoors.

Two men, both clad in fancy white, had abruptly been summoned. One man was of tall, handsome stature. All articles of clothing eerily primmed and prepped. Short, pale hair that seemed to waver on the line between neat and scruffy. Everything about his face, even down to the mole placed daintily near his mouth, meant business. The other appeared younger, standing at about shoulder height to the first man. There was something different about this one. From the way his uniform was worn in a more relaxed fashion to his odd silver hair coupled with equally hued eyes that made for an albinic appearance. In spite of it, the man had a unique aesthetic charm. The smugness on his face only added to it.

These two are recognized to be Charles Phipps(the tall one), and Charles Grey(the younger one). Or Better known as Double Charles, the private secretarial officers of Queen Victoria.

The urgent call had disturbed their peaceful day. Although, Grey didn't seem to mind. He never had a thing for such monotony.

Her Majesty waited for silence to signal privacy before addressing the two men. "Seeing as though crime in England is at a height, I'm afraid my Ciel may not be able to keep up with recent occurrences. And it worries my aging heart. So, I am considering on promoting the Kingsley family to work alongside the Phantomhive."

She coughed weakly before continuing. "But despite giving them such a position, I'm afraid I still have a few doubts on my mind. Although Wynn seems like an eligible man, actions situating the late Earl Kingsley with the Black Market and Human Trafficking leave me at unease. I am unsure whether or not Wynn remains guiltless of his father's actions."

"We will keep watch on him, your Majesty. Should he misbehave, we will put our utmost efforts into putting him in line." Phipps assured.

"Yes, but keeping in mind the cagey behavior of his father," she perplexed. " I have been suspicious of the Late Earl Kingsley for years, but he met an untimely fate before we could even scratch the surface."

She paused again, trying to mull over her thoughts of the next topic. "There is also Riliane Kingsley."

"The late Earl's daughter?" Grey stretched his arms and folded them behind his head, creating an air pillow as he yawned his words. He was growing restless.

"Up until recently, I was unaware that the Late Earl Kingsley even had a daughter. Word of her impending debut this season was completely out of the blue. Speaking of which, this is what I wanted to discuss with you two."

Both men perked up. Though Grey held more casual attention to the Queen's words, as if she were simply having small talk over a cup of tea.

She spoke of how Riliane would be making her debut at the first party of the season. And how Wynn was already anticipating marriage offers for his 'baby sister'. He even went as far as to state that he would be scrutinizing every suitor that steps up to the plate. Once the Queen was back on track, she told Grey and Phipps that one of them would need to attend the party, and that this attendance would be crucial into setting an investigation plan into action.

"The results will put my worries to rest. I need one of you to pass Wynn's inspection and become familiar with Lady Riliane. Through her, you can do homework on the family—Wynn Kingsley in particular."

Both Phipps and Grey remained silent.

"The one of you who is not married."

Phipps' eyes teetered to Grey, who knitted his brows at his own cluelessness.

Moments flew out the door before Grey could realize. "Phipps, you dog, I didn't know you were married."

"Be sure to follow her majesty's plans accordingly, Grey."

A quiet, weary sigh whispered from beside the Queen, causing both men to look up almost startled. They had completely forgotten that John Brown had been there the entire time. The odd guy rarely spoke, he was practically the Queen's shadow.

"I'm terribly sorry to put you in this situation Grey, but I trust that you are the most appropriate candidate for this job." Although they couldn't be seen behind the dark veil over her face, the Queen's eyes donned the sincerest of empathies. Her gloved hand gently patted her chest to convey this to him.

"You have not met her, but Riliane is a very sweet girl. So I'm sure you two will have no problems falling in love after marriage. After all, my dear Albert and I were the same."

Grey smiled in spite of his unswayed opinions. "Yes, your majesty."

...

* * *

...

Phipps and Grey descended down the hall, dismissed to carry out a delivery to a certain one-eyed Earl.

Grey puffed his cheeks, his eyes veered to the glowering paintings rather than the smooth floors ahead. It wasn't that he disliked the idea of marriage. He just _loathed _the idea of the old ball and chain. Even when he wasn't as serious as Phipps, Grey loved his job. The little—let's call them _assignments_—given to him by Her Majesty were a shot of pure adrenaline. He loved having his fun. And the authority allowed him to do what he pleased. Getting hitched to a single woman would prove quite troublesome. Charles Grey wasn't a dog. Charles Grey didn't need a leash. _Charles Grey did what he wanted._

"Will you be alright with the arrangement, Grey?" Phipps inquired, having watched the vague hints of a tantrum Grey had put out since they left the Queen's presence.

"Don't tell me you're a hopeless romantic, Phipps."

"I respect her Majesty's decisions, though I disagree with marriages where you cannot choose your old age partner."

Grey gave Phipps a look that laughed at his naivety. "Sounds like you married for love."

"I believe marriage should be the result of two of people falling love, and not vice versa."

The younger frowned. Phipps was six or seven years his senior, yet he believed in a petty thing like that? That kind of dreaming was meant only for young girls in the lower class, who are so short on money that they can dream of nothing else _but_ love.

"It's funny. People treat marriage as though its something pure and honest." He waited until he locked gazes with Phipps. "But in reality, marriage is nothing more than a societal contract that politically ensnares two families into sharing money. For rank, for expansion, for ascension. There is nothing pure and honest about that."

"So as long as her family has money, and could benefit you, you wouldn't care if you couldn't stand her? Or if she resembles a townhorse?"

"Don't be silly, Phipps. I'm satisfied with where I am. I'm already an Earl, and a private officer of the Queen herself. If the girl's ugly, 'course I'd refuse. But..if that's the case with Wynn's sister, then I may be in a pinch. I have a duty to her Majesty, after all."

Grey fully understood the situation. Engaging himself to Riliane Kingsley would allow him more freedom to roam the manor without giving away his true intentions. And Wynn was no doubt a doting older brother. Whether or not the Queen's suspicions are justified, the engagement will keep Wynn from acting up. Ciel Phantomhive has his loyalty. Now they had to put a leash on the other dog.

"You're unbelievable." Phipps scowled and looked the other way.

"Aw, you worry about me~!" A grin beamed from Grey's expression as his posture brightened playfully. He pulled his sword from his side, grasping it loosely as he waved it about in random patterns. "I'll be fine, Phipps. Especially if she's cute. If not, or if I get tired of my bride-to-be, I can always find a pretty mistress to bed." His smile widened cheekily. "Maybe that towns' girl I met a few years back! How long ago was that? Four years maybe?"

"Do you even remember her face?" Phipps deadpanned, a hopeless facepalm evident in his voice.

Grey returned the sword to it's sheath. "Of course. Quite the cutie, that one. Deliciously blunt and naive, too. But I never bothered to ask for her name."

...

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**Yay first chapter~ Hope you readers enjoyed and thanks for reading! I hope, if they are, that the manga characters are not too out of character. Charles Grey has become my favourite u**

**Thanks again for reading~!**


	3. Chapter 2: His Rival, Challenging

**.: Chapter Two:.**

**_"His Rival, Challenging"_  
**

* * *

...

As gracefully as the sun rose, morning wasn't very merciful on Ciel Phantomhive's lidded eyes. He yanked the covers over his head and turned away, muttering to Sebastian to pull the curtains together again.

"You have a busy day today, young master." The man clad in black approached the disheveled bedside. "You must have an early start to fit your date in the schedule."

Ciel's grogginess lagged his words. "Tell...tell Lizzy that...the uh...the wedding plans can wait. It's going to be months from-"

"It is not Lady Elizabeth who will be visiting you today." Sebastian's usually wry smile was gone, replaced with a small grimace. For whatever reason, he wasn't in the mood to play any games. "Lady Riliane Kingsley and her butler-" his brow twitched at the word-"will be arriving within three hours."

The young noble emerged from the layers of bedding, surprise breaking his fatigue. "Kingsley?" he repeated, to make sure he was hearing right. A long, frustrated sigh expelled from his lungs. He threw the covers from his body, which was now broadened with maturity.

Several years had passed since he had formed the contract with his demon, Sebastian, who guised himself as an ordinary butler. Several years had passed, and very little progress has been made. Several years had passed, and Ciel Phantomhive still hasn't dealt with his pests. Today he stands, now 17 years and idling through the chapter of adulthood—a chapter which his soul read a long time ago. Now his body has finally caught up.

Now if only he could catch up with the incline of cases around England. Maybe then he wouldn't feel so dejected in his position.

He swung his feet over the edge of the mattress and stood, allowing Sebastian to start the morning routine.

...

* * *

...

9:30am and the mansion was sparkling. Sebastian had wiped down every blemish only after turning it right-side up when the other servants had tossed it up-side down. This chaos repeats every time the Phantomhive manor expects a guest. Every time. It was as if idiocy was a plague and only he and his master were immune. Perhaps Snake had some resistance to it as well.

The sound of ceramic shattering into a million pieces shot through the demon's ears. "Oops, says Dan..."

_Perhaps._

Within minutes said servants were all aligned at the front doors, anxiously poised like figurines. Though, they couldn't help but engage in hushed gossip.

"I heard Earl Kingsley was quite handsome, yes I did." Mey-rin fumed bashfulness.

"But it's his kid sister that's visiting, right? What if nasty rumors start goin' round?" Bard smirked, arms crossed and earning himself an "ooh" from Finny.

Snake, as usual, stayed silent but still committed to the conversation.

The life of it was immediately brought down. Sebastian berated their fears with his solid eyes. "These guests are not to be bothered. _Not to be bothered. _Under any circumstances." In truth, he just didn't want the servants to be messing around with the likes of _him_.

The double doors opened as soon as a carriage trotted onto the premises. The servants peeked eagerly through the gap between Sebastian and Ciel, watching a familiar black tail-coat step out of the carriage. The man wearing it may have been just a few years younger than Sebastian. He sported tousled, red-maroon hair and strikingly golden eyes.

Ciel stared flatly. While there was something curious about the man, something out of place, he was not the person that Ciel was so fervent on seeing. He was dead set on the concept that the kind of person Wynn Kingsley was, would be the same kind of person he was about to meet. His eyes were completely affixed on the inside of the carriage.

What bobbed out of it was a petite, fair-skinned figure in a dress of pearl white. A rose pink capelet hung around her shoulders. Long ebony locks cascaded from a half-updo into gentle curls. Some hair escaped and framed her delicate jawline, which denuded a year or two from her.

Ciel wasn't going to lie. This girl was attractive, but he wasn't one to admit such things. He tried to appear unmoved, but his eyes drifted to her lips as they curved into bewitching smile.

Sebastian paid no mind to the object of everyone's distraction. The only presence he acknowledged was the girl's red-headed butler, who flashed him a sardonic grin.

"Lord Phantomhive," the butler began. "I present you my lady, Riliane Kingsley, visiting on her brother's behalf."

Riliane executed a flawless curtsy before speaking. "Pleased to meet you, Ciel Phantomhive."

Ciel nodded, hoping it would keep his gaze from dropping lower and shove it upwards. It wasn't too difficult to keep it there. He found it incredibly hard to break eye-contact with her—with her crystalline eyes. They were doll-like, a misty gray with a bluish tint and there was something about them. There was something strange and familiar about them and he wanted to find out what it was. Their fixed gazes were only broken when Riliane moved to allow herself inside. It was then that Ciel realized he had completely tuned out Sebastian's introductions.

"-If I may, I'd like to escort you both inside to the drawing room."

Ciel watched her give his servants a generous bow and a sugary "nice to meet you", to which they reacted bashfully.

_My business is with her brother. Why is she here?_

He recalled the afternoon of yesterday. He received a very unexpected and unwelcomed visit from Phipps and Grey, with the latter smashing right through a second story window while the other took the front door.

The message they relayed soured his mood even more than the scattered glass.

"_You may have a rival, Phantomhive. Maybe her Majesty is worried. All these cases may just be too much for you. Or perhaps she's disappointed, because you seem to be getting lazy. In any case, she called up her puppy~!"_

Then Grey proceeded to hand Ciel a letter, stamped with the royal seal, that told him about Earl Kingsley's promotion to second watchdog.

It got to him. How he must have dismayed the queen with his lacking performance. Things in England have been hectic but he promised himself, back when he slipped up with Baron Kelvin years ago, that he would never again sadden her majesty's opinion of him.

Oh, how failed that promise. And now she was willing to seek help from someone else. How could he have been so inattentive? How could he have made such a blunder?

When they arrived at the drawing room he let all these chiding thoughts fly to the back of his mind. Sebastian opened the door, smiled at Riliane, and gave her a nice "ladies first" before throwing a look of disdain at the other butler. Following Riliane inside, Ciel quirked a brow at Sebastian, then seated himself.

"Would you like some refreshments, Lady Riliane?" Sebastian asked, still at the doorway.

"Tea would be just fine, thank you. My butler, Damian, will help you."

He threw a quick glance at the man beside him before asking Ciel the same question, who requested the same order with a chocolate mousse cake on the side.

"As you wish." Sebastian bowed, and closed the door behind him. Leaving the two in their privacy and him to deal with Damian.

The walk to the kitchen was a quiet, steely one. Save for the moments where they silently passed the other servants continuing their mindless babble. It was only when they found themselves in the privacy of the kitchen that a conversation finally ensued.

Damian shattered his own dignified persona, loosening his posture and giving Sebastian a hard pat on the back. "It's been a long time, hasn't it, old pal?"

The corners of Sebastian's mouth were pulled lower. "I am not your pal."

"Aw, come on, mate. Don't be like that. We were partners in crime after all."

"That is until your greedy stomach got the best of you."

This time it was Damian's turn to frown. "I was fresh out of hell. What did you expect from someone learning the ropes?"

Sebastian sighed as he lifted the top off a cake holder, slicing into it with delicate precision. There was no use arguing with children. And Damian had a point. "I was the same a couple hundred years ago, I guess."

"Am I forgiven?"

"A demon is never forgiven. Only grudges fade."

"Feh. Good enough." Damian decided to take it for now. Sebastian's forgiveness or mercy wasn't at all worth it. Not anymore.

Sebastian moved diligently about the kitchen, taking a box of the preferred tea from its shelf while he let a kettle full of water simmer on the stove. He picked out the most elegantly decored tea set, a porcelain white with floral embellishments, and arranged it neatly on a sterling silver tray.

"Please also include a small pitcher of milk."

"Milk?"

"She can't stand tea without milk."

The charcoal-haired man grinned. "You seem to be paying rather close attention to this one."

"Granted, I was never blessed with being able to serve to such a cute girl before. And you know how fond I was of cute girls."

"But she is not the contractor."

Sebastian caught a wild gleam in Damian's eyes as he spoke. "The contractor is her older brother. I've just been given orders to watch Riliane, not that I mind. Lucky me~"

"A bit too baby-faced, in my opinion. But do what you want, as long as you keep your hands off my plate."

"Hah. I'm not interested in that slab of meat. By the way, I thought you'd have eaten that by now."

"I was reckless before, just taking what I get. But that soul. A pure soul marinated by despair, suffering, and hate. And then you take the time to spice it with with fulfillment. That is a soul worth eating."

"Hmm."

"Speaking of despair. That girl wreaks of it."

Damian propped an elbow onto the counter, resting his jaw in his palm as the devious, violet glow in his eyes grew wilder.

"What I _really_ like about this one is...she's innocent in the most tainted way."

The tea-kettle on the stove whistled it's high-pitched whine.

...

* * *

...

"Your visit is quite a surprise." Ciel relaxed into his seat, one leg over the other as his arms lazed across the armrests.

Riliane smiled. "Let's not beat around the bush, Ciel. And while we're at it, let's drop formalities."

He caught himself trapped in her eyes again and noticed what was so off about them before. Past her stunning irises were abyss-like pupils. He'd fallen in that type of darkness before. He recognized it elsewhere. And once he heard the faint hostility in her voice, it all clicked in his head.

He'd seen the same kind of blackness in his own reflection. It donned on him that both he and Riliane had surpassed boundaries their age permitted them. There was once a light behind their eyes, but someone blew out their candles long ago. This made him even more curious as to what she wanted to discuss.

"What's this all about?" He smirked, deciding to humor her.

"Her majesty is gravely disappointed in your inadequacy, so we'll be fetching those vermin now."

The smirk fell.

In that moment he accessed everything he recalled about Earl Kingsley, which wasn't very much. Everything he knew relating to the name was from that brief, and somewhat vague, letter from her majesty. And the rumor that the late Countess Kingsley, who had gone missing years before, never reported a second pregnancy.

In other words, Riliane Kingsley shouldn't even exist.

"Just who are you?"

Another curve of her lips. "Her majesty has kept the Kingsley household at her side in case the Phantomhives ever fail or _fall_. We take care of the messes you overlook in your distress or impudence."

Ciel narrowed his eyes. This girl had the audacity to threaten _him_. His jaw tightened, teeth scraping together and when he noticed he took in a silent breath and calmed himself down. A grin that rivaled Riliane's placed itself on his face.

"So basically, you and your brother are my subordinates."

Her smile deflated.

"An arrogant way to put it, and that arrogance may be the end of you."

"What makes you think that you could best me?"

"Because I have Damian."

"Your butler?"

"In the same way you have Sebastian."

The silenced air became heavily coated in his discomfort. For a second, he almost doubted her being human. He should be one to know if she wasn't. But the only odd thing about her, aside from her akiness to him, was that a smile never seemed to leave her face.

"Who are you?" He repeated, his tone trying to solicit a satisfying answer.

"I am Riliane Kingsley."

"I'm not in the mood for games."

"Aw~ But I wanted to play with you so badly."

At that moment Sebastian returned, toting a cart carrying the refreshments and Damian following behind.

"Are you challenging me, Miss Riliane?"

"Do you want a challenge, Earl Phantomhive?"

"Sebastian."

"Damian."

Both demons, eye glimmering as their pupils reduced to slits, abided by their masters' sides.

"Put them in their place."

"Teach them a lesson."

"Yes, my lord."

"My pleasure."

...

* * *

**a/n:**

**uhuhuhu~ Riliane :3**

**I hope you guys enjoyed meeting her for the first time. Thank you for reading, and a big thanks to those who have reviewed and followed! ^u^**


	4. Chapter 3: His Needs, A Mystery

**.:Chapter Three:.**

_**"His Needs, A Mystery"**_

* * *

"I'm afraid Earl Kingsley isn't in at the moment, Lord Grey." The stiff man, recognized as the household's footman, became a tail-coated blockade to the ajared double doors.

Inwardly huffing, he challenged the man to a staredown. Rude. Completely rude. This man refused Grey any access inside. Of course, he would have been allowed in if he had said it was business from the Queen. But it wasn't. Partially. If he had said that then it would only raise suspicions and he wasn't one to always rely on the Queen's privilege. Grey figured that he should go about this plan himself, and if the investigation on the Kingsley family were to be resolved prior to marriage then he could always call off the engagement. The most it would do is humiliate poor Riliane, but it wasn't like Grey gave a damn about that.

He only hoped that Wynn's obsessive blathering over his sister weren't blinded glorifications. Grey had heard tale from the man that this girl was "quite the lovely picture" as well as "sweet", "elegant", and a "gracious little lady". All of which alerted Grey for a monotone marriage. Wynn's other fanatical bragging made him sick to his stomach. Speaking of which, he immediately took notice of the slight rumbling in his gut.

Moments and moments escaped and Grey had long ago given up trying to intimidate the servant. His focus shifted to the footman's colourless brow, around the leathery creases of his forehead, and up to his receding hairline.

_Damn. Why hasn't this guy retired yet?_

The old servant finally yielded under Grey's scrutiny. "The master is out taking care of business. I believe he will be back within the hour, or the next."

"That's fine by me, I don't mind waiting around."

The man nodded and moved aside to allow Grey inside. The wrinkliest of frowns pulled at his mouth when the white-clad earl ambled through.

Grey wasn't surprised by this type of behaviour from the man. He knew he wasn't the footman's cup of tea and guessed that he probably preferred more dignified and proper company. Or in Grey's own words; boring. He'd rather not waste a kind word on people who wouldn't give him a decent time-killer, let alone the time of day.

"Would you like some refreshments, Lord Grey?"

Grey turned just in time to see the footman's frown flatten out. "Chamomile tea. And I have a bit of a sweet tooth right now, have you got anything?"

"Our chef just prepared spongecake with strawberry tart filling, topped with-"

"I'll take half of the entire thing."

"What?"

Grey raised a questioning brow. "Did I stutter?"

"Right away." The old servant thought he had momentary escaped Grey's clutches, turning to leave, until the earl began to speak again.

"Is Riliane Kingsley in?"

"The young mistress is upstairs, but she is not ready for company at the moment."

Without giving Grey another chance to question further, the footman left to retrieve the requests, making the earl pout. When the footsteps disappeared into the hall, he stomped childishly and clenched his fists. This servant obviously lacked manners. The man didn't even show Grey to a waiting room!

"I'll just have to show myself around." He said stubbornly, leading himself up a crimson-carpeted staircase—unknowingly turning in to the hall of bedchambers.

The Kingsley Manor certainly did not disappoint. Whistling as he inspected the hallway, he noticed that each darkwood doorframe he passed had significant designs, and each one was slightly different from the last. It was as if the carvings told a story as you walked further. The rug lining the hall was very much in style this season, a deep red sporting earthy golden etchings. And like everything else he had seen in the mansion so far, it was free of any dust or grime. Even the chandeliers that hung far above his head looked as if they were polished daily. Grey couldn't help but compare the cleanliness of this manor to that of Phantomhive's, and that brat definitely had something to hide. Dogs often ran in packs, didn't they?

He was about to pass yet another set of deftly-crafted double doors until a faint sound tickled his ears. It was when he craned his neck, nearly twisting his back, to face the source that he noticed the doors were cracked open. Interest pulled his brow high and he quietly made his way to the crack and peeked inside.

What he saw definitely made this visit a little less boring.

A metal tub was placed on the bare carpet, in close proximity with the welcoming warmth of the crackling fireplace. Trails of soapy water dripped from the rims and darkened the already moist carpet below. A lithe body rested, submerged in scented water as black locks descended until the curls drowned. Grey couldn't see her face, not that it mattered. His gaze immediately flew to the bare white shoulders relaxing as the water washed away any unease. A leg, uncovered by neither lace nor silk, raised out of the water and was lathered with soap all the way from the knee until it dripped from the gentle swell of the ankle. This continued until nearly every inch(at least Grey imagined) of exposed, milky skin was soaked in fresh bubbles.

Could this have been his bride to be? If so, then Riliane Kingsley looked very...vulnerable.

"Could you help me wash my hair? Sometimes it's a pain."

Grey blinked, wondering if he had breathed too loudly or had done anything that gave away his presence.

He opened his mouth to stutter an insincere apology when a black tailcoat was discarded onto the floor nearby, leaving his jaw hanging. The maroon-haired man that came into view was left in his waistcoat and dress shirt. He pulled up a wooden stool behind the girl and rolled up his pale sleeves, later dipping his hands into the water to grope around for the dark hair straying about. When Riliane tilted her head back to comply with this, enough of her hair fell out of her face to give Grey a profile of her lips.

"...Ahem..."

He spun around, doe-eyed as if he was child caught with his arm elbow deep in the cookie jar. He kept his cool enough to replace his widened eyes with a stubborn glare, frowning crossly. "About time."

The footman raised a brow. "I apologize for the wait, sir. Serving guests is usually the butler's job." His eyes flicked to the ajared door, and it was almost as if he was raising his voice high enough to be heard by the people behind it.

"You're Earl Kingsley's servany, not mine. Complain to him."

The nostrils of the footman twitched as he reconsidered the bullet he wanted to shoot back. "Right this way to the parlor, Lord Grey. Master Wynn has just arrived and is waiting for you."

As he trailed behind the footman, Grey couldn't help but linger on the pale pink lips he had seen just moments before. Then the image of the red-haired butler flickered. He'd heard plenty of tall tales of other women doing erotic activities with their butlers, however this particular tale had drawn out some ire.

...

* * *

...

"What brought you here, Grey?" Wynn Kingsley eased into his seat, spearing the strawberry on his plate and savoring the red flavor. A drop of sweat weighed down any seriousness when his question went unanswered, only because the young albino had busied himself with wolfing down his 4th slice of dessert.

"Uh...it's delicious isn't it? You know the chef may have made prepared it, but Riliane-"

"Oh yeah, that's who I wanted to talk about."

Wynn's dark brows furrowed in suspicion. He looked at the footman, who was earlier introduced as Richard, to give them a moment's privacy.

"What about Rilly?"

Grey subdued his hunger enough to set his plate down. The sudden, prying stare he gave Wynn went unnoticed, but his demeanor changed enough to signal that he meant some business. Wynn straightened up as well, unknowing of what to expect.

"How is it I've never even heard of, let alone see, this sister of yours?"

Wynn bit his lip as his eyes veered off to the side, an obvious tell that he was pondering around for a liable answer. "Riliane's health has always been feeble, ever since she was young. And so she's rarely left the manor."

Grey nodded. "How old is she?"

"Almost 18. Why the sudden interest in my sister?"

The door to the parlor opened, and both men looked up to see Damian smoothing back his dampened locks. His clothes were orderly, save for a loosened tie, but Grey recognize the muted colour of his hair from earlier. When Damian noticed the eyes on him, his own switched from one man to other and smiled.

"Where is she?"

"Drying her hair."

Wynn frowned and pointed a look at Damian, who continued to sag his shoulders as he sauntered casually to couch's side. "Dame. I have a guest."

After a roll of his eyes, Damian's posture shot upright as if he were a tree brought back to life. His shoulders evened, and the laxed expression that usually marred the manor's sophisticated ambiance disappeared. It was as if the butler was replaced with another.

"Better." He heard Wynn mumble.

Grey guessed that this butler may have been quite new, perhaps an infant to the profession. There was nothing wrong with a rookie correcting himself at appropriate times, but there was something about this man that bothered Grey. It was a strong sense of deja vu that he couldn't place. It wasn't until a grin flashed on Damian's face that he also remembered the encounter from earlier.

_Is Wynn aware that this so-called angel of his was being such a tramp?_

"Grey."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"What brought you to ask about Riliane?"

He smiled, one white-clad leg crossing over the other as he gave Wynn a look of nonchalance. "Well youth doesn't last forever, you see. And I thought it was about time I get myself a fiancée." Grey threw a small glance over Damian, gouging for a reaction. Nothing but a simple twitch of his eyes that may have been a contained sign of surprise.

Wynn immediately stiffened, his eyes becoming comparable to the pearly saucers that held their cups of tea. "I...uh...you want to...y-y-y-ou you...WHAT?"

"Is-"

"WHY RILIANE?"

"...I've taken a look at some of the other chits debuting this year and I didn't like them. I figured, from the things you've told me about your sister-" t_he endless, obssessive, annoying fawning over your sister_ "-that she would be quite the lovely addition to my life."

Grey smirked as Wynn relaxed back into his seat, seeming satisfied. "Really?"

He nodded.

"Well, I have to say that I'm flattered but the choice isn't yours. You see..."

_Here it comes. _Grey mentally rolled his eyes as his lips pressed into a thin line. He could almost smell the flowers excreting from Wynn's voice.

"No man will ever be good enough for my darling sister~ And I want to do everything in my power to make sure she's well taken care of and happy~"

"Oh, but don't you think she'll get that with me?"

The flowers withered, and Wynn's voice had a sudden edge to it. "Charles. I'm flattered but Riliane-"

"Earl Phantomhive is a highly sought after target, and as he grows older he also grows more prone to danger. All because of a name, a title, that he is doomed to have his life in constant threat."

Grey smugly waited for a response but the room carried nothing but silence until he spoke again.

"Don't you think, because of your family's recent upbringing, that you would be the same? Yes, Wynn, you're quite the swordsman. You won't be as vulnerable as Phantomhive, but what of your dear sister? They say the fastest way to bring a big man down is to get him where it hurts."

"...and how do you think an engagement to you can help with that?"

"When there's a precious jewel in need of defending, you surround it with the strongest men you could find. How else do you think the Queen is protected? Speaking of which, my status as her secretarial officer can do some good when it comes to political protection."

Grey crossed his arms, being rather pleased with himself as he watched his words settle into Wynn's mind. The grandfather clock out of view dominated the reoccurring numbness in the room. Second after second ticked as Wynn hung his head in thought. He flexed his brow, bringing light to the worry-lines along his forehead, before scratching the back of his neck.

"...I'm...convinced. But...I'd like for you two to meet before I make my final decision."

"Can't I meet her now?"

"Yes...I suppose now is appropriate. Damian?"

"No." Damian's jaw unclenched enough to utter a simple response, deliberately leaving out any acknowledgment of respect. "Your expected company will be here within minutes. Now is not a good time."

...

* * *

...

As soon as the distance consumed Grey's carriage, Damian let the curtains drape together again. He turned menacingly to face Wynn, who looked at his feet like a child being shamed for misbehaviour.

"You let him manipulate you."

When he got nothing but a simple scratch of the head in response, he stalked towards him. Each step reverberating in Wynn's head, beside his other concerns.

"You're going to just hand him your sister on a platter?"

"You can't deny the fact that he's right. Being an underground associate of the Queen is a dangerous job. I'm only thinking of Riliane."

"You and I are enough, we're perfectly capable of keeping her safe no matter how messy the job gets."

Wynn shook his head and finally pierced Damian with his eyes. The hazel swirls now dimmed with a sudden grimness. "You know as well as I do that sooner or later, I won't be here."

...

* * *

...

The sky was already crestfallen with the first colours of night. Dusk was rapidly coming to a close as the clouds absorbed the sun's lazy hues. The journey to the Grey estate was a long, moody one. It was a five-hour carriage ride from the Kingsley estate, through the dead quiet country, across the noisy city, through more seamless countryside, and finally to his own inviting home. And he was alone for the entire ride. Grey didn't dislike solitude, there were just times where he preferred a person to mess with. Especially when something was constantly gnawing at the back of his mind.

Wynn had been too quick to usher him out the door, pushing Grey in a manner where simply throwing him out in a sack would have been a kinder choice! He protested and made demands to meet Riliane, but they were canceled out by the butler's sudden concern for their impending guests.

_What kind of people were they expecting that Wynn became so eager to shove Grey out the door?_

The thought only added to Grey's suspicion on the family, but he refused to believe that someone like that sister-complexed imbecile could conspire anything. The man was horrible at keeping a simple poker face. Every sign of emotion was plain as day and he didn't seem like the type capable of such a feat, let alone become a watchdog.

Without sparing the coachman a single glance or utterance of gratitude, he carried himself up the marble steps. He continued to brood in his own thoughts until one of the towering doors opened to greet him inside. Sitting in the front room expecting him was a woman who filled an earthly green gown rather voluptuously. Her cream-coloured hair was held together within a braided bun, save for the few curly locks about her face and the straight-cut fringe curtained above eyes that mirrored Grey's.

"Charles~" she smiled, absentmindedly fanning at her face.

"Good evening, Charlotte."

She frowned when Grey failed in mimicking her cheerful tones and continued to stare him down. "You look like you put your undergarments on the wrong way."

"No."

"Charles."

This was the only woman who could rip his skin and crawl right under. The only one who was capable of whipping him into shape and the only who could put him on his knees. This woman was none other than Chartlotte Grey, his older sister and the "gem of her generation". Though Grey had other nicknames for her such as "warden" and "dictator" as well as others he could never mention around her unless he wanted his tongue scrubbed raw.

"Did Stanford get get the information I wanted?" Grey retired to the plush armchair beside her and kicked his feet up onto the low table only to have them smacked away by Charlotte's fan.

"About that bakery in Preston?"

"Yeah."

"The name of that baker was Raeleigh' Evans."

"Oh, that was his name."

"Yes, and he's dead."

"...What?"

"Stanford said that bakery burned down a few years ago."

Grey huffed as his back fell against the chair. "Damn, the pastries there were pretty good. What about the guy's daughter?"

"Oh, that one towns girl you never seemed to stop talking about."

"Yeah, you never forget a face like that, Charlotte."

"Well, it's best you soon forget then."

The conversation died momentarily and for the first time that day, Grey dreaded the silence. "...Why?"

"She went missing."

...

* * *

**a/n:**

**Wooohoo~ We're getting somewhere! :D I apologize it took so long to update. School has started for me here, but I'm hoping to try and update every two weeks.**

Tell me what you think, I'd love to hear some comments and critiques! Plus reading reviews kind of adds to the motivation of getting each chapter done c:


	5. Chapter 4: His Wish, A Reality

**.:Chapter Four:.**

**_"His Wish, A Reality"_  
**

* * *

...

_The streets of Preston savaged by poverty were one of the gloomiest things Gray had ever seen. The palette of clothing was very dull. Only ranging from faded maroons, browns, and beiges. The pets looked about as plump and well-fed as the scavenging strays, and the outside smelled but the indoors were stuffy. Yet as they walked Forever Street, the people smiled and laughed. The children played with their beaten toys and chipping wooden swords, the adults snickered and guffawed at meager gossip and cheesy jokes. Grey wondered what was there to be so happy about when they all had so little. He would never see anything like this in London. London was a huge, bustling city and it's ghettos were more cautious and outcasting than this strange town. When he and Phipps walked by, the people of Forever didn't scrutinize or glare, they beamed and greeted them with "hellos" and "good mornings"._

_This was Gray's third time outside the London circle and his first time in Preston and he had to admit; he was already bored._

_"Why are we here again, Phipps?"_

_"We are checking to see if there is anything left from Phantomhive's last investigation."_

_"Augh..." Grey grimaced. "Are we being punished again? That sounds like a job you'd give to a maid."_

_"If it consoles you, it's up to us to finish the job if there's anything left. I'll let you handle it, if you want."_

_Grey crossed his arms and puffed his cheeks. "I still feel like a maid."_

_A child with tattered clothes and a cardboard box on his head, supposedly made to look like a knight's helm, ran past Phipps. A sharp needle was drawn and a white flash surrounded the child, yet seconds later all was in it's place. The child stopped and blinked, wondering what on earth just happened until he noticed that the holes in his brown pants were mended. "Cool!" He shrilled, before running to catch up to his friends shouting about a fairy._

_Phipps tucked the thread and needle back into his flawless coat, smiling._

_"What the hell..."_

_"A butler is always prepared to respond to any emergency, Grey."_

_The young man only shook his head and returned to observing the street. "You're weird."_

_After a few more minutes of walking aimlessly, peering curiously at wares and goods, and Phipps being odd, they decided to retire within a bakery. It was at the very end of the street and it's outside was painted a bit brighter compared to the rest of the merchant shops, like the last flower in a bouquet of dead leaves._

_The rich scent of butter and sugar wafted across the air, waltzing with the perfume of brilliant poppies and joyful primroses(probably from that annoying flower lady across the street) that littered the tables of the shop. It made the inside feel warm, much like home._

_A dark haired man walked out from a back room seconds after the bell's jaunty chime, eyes immediately going wide with surprise at the sight of Grey and Phipps' outlandish attire. "Well good morning, gentlemen! What can I do for you?"_

_"What's fresh today, sir?"_

_The man grinned welcomingly , highlighting the creases around his mouth that have only begun to form. "Please, call me Raeleigh!_

_This mean seemed awfully cheerful, much like the rest of the bunch they had seen on their trip so far. But something about him screamed, maybe from the soothing tones in his voice or the warmth radiating from his hazel eyes, that he was probably a father. Or just a very, very kind man._

_"The freshest thing I have at the moment is sweet bread and a I've got a couple of cherry pies cooling in the back."_

_"I'll just have some tea, please."_

_"I'll take one whole pie."_

_"...what?" The smile on his face continued, but the dumbfounded look in his eyes was crystal clear._

_"You heard me, Raeleigh~"_

_The baker burst out in a raucous laughter, startling the few customers in the back having a peaceful breakfast. "You've got an appetite, huh? Well, coming right up." He wiped the white dust powdering his palms onto his apron and headed toward the back again. "Also, I'm sorry, it's morning so I haven't finished the goods I've planned for today. And my daughter's out making deliveries, still."_

_Grey scoffed, musing on the fact that he was correct. Though, he could catch a hint of worry dismayed in Raeleigh's bright tones. He and Phipps waded to the nearest table, trying to settle themselves on the unplushed, wooden chairs that groaned with overuse and age. Grey finally found solace in resting the heels of his shoes, one ankle over-crossing the other, on the table as he tilted on the chair's back legs._

_"Grey."_

_"What?" He mumbled quietly. "The tables look filthy anyway. He should really get his daughter to scrub these."_

_As if on queue, the bell dangling above the door announced the entrance of a young, fair-skinned girl with much of her dark hair captured in an ashy brown bonnet. Grey watched her skip happily to the front counter, peering into the back and setting the woven basket she carried next to an intricately painted flower vase._

_If only he could lie and say that he had seen girls like her before, but he couldn't. In the sea of labor-stricken faces, she was like that wish in a bottle that you would come across once or twice within a lifetime. And boy, had he wished for her in his most private moments._

_"Daddy~! I finished all the deliveries." From the soft undertones of her voice, Grey guessed that he may be at least a few years her senior, but it wasn't like men these days married women their own age._

_Raeleigh stepped out from the back room again, stern-faced and a platter in hand readied with what Phipps recognized to be their order._

_"All of them?"_

_She nodded, making her shoulder length curls bounce. "I went a little further down the street this time, but I was careful."_

_"Sweetheart, I told you not go past the doll-maker's shop without me."_

_"But we know everyone! So if anyone sees trouble they'll help."_

_Raeleigh pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to keep his laxed demeanor, while his daughter swayed innocently._

_"Soo...Daddyy~ Can I make the afternoon deliveries, too?"_

_"Honey, I-"_

_"Pleeeaaasssee~? I never see anything beyond Forever." She continued to beg and plead. Her back was turned to Grey, but from the conflicted look in Raeleigh's face he could tell that she was batting her lashes._

_"...Only around the corner, no farther than Wesley's Tailoring."_

_"Hoooraaay~"_

_Raeleigh dragged on a long, skeptical sigh as he moved the platter towards his daughter. He waited until her slender fingers were able to grasp it. "Now give this to those two gentlemen over there."_

_She turned and catered to them with a gem of a smile. "Good morning." The words sprang like an incantation from her lips, and the day was suddenly decent for Grey._

_"Good morning, young lady."_

_"Morning." Grey greeted, his expression brightening as she gingerly set their teacups before them. He took the opportunity of her closeness to survey her face again, but his gaze refused to land on anything but her mystful eyes. Colours flew to her cheeks when she felt his scrutiny and she seemed to retreat under her bonnet._

_"Your eyes are beautiful." Grey said, taking back the awkwardness he made. "What colour are they?"_

_"Uhmmm..." the roses in her cheeks maintained. "People tell me they're blue."_

_"Really? Because I see a little _gray_ in them."_

_In the backroom beyond the counter, Raeleigh watched curiously as the young man in white intimately spoke with his princess._

...

* * *

...

Grey withdrew from his recollections of that time in Preston. He found that little area to be off, even down the street names. Wishful Thinking? Disaster Street? They all sounded like something from a cheap novel. And while that bakery's sweets were something to die for, it was all shabbily washed down with horribly made tea. He remembered many things upon his recurring visits, but the image of the baker's daughter always sprang loud and clear.

He would have to get over soon, but he couldn't help but feel a deep loss. That girl would forever be but a fleeting fantasy. And the present wasn't a time to be dwelling on fantasies. Grey had to focus on the party at hand, trying in vain to pick out an unknown face from the crowd.

The Midford Manor was always a sight to behold, especially during the social season. Every rug and carpet had been replaced with an in-style pattern, mostly consisting of earthy colours and various shades of gold. Every hall and corridor was lined with streamers. But the best of the manor was the ballroom. It was a lovely sight to take in earlier that day, but it became much more livelier once night had fallen and guests spilled into the room. The glazed, marble tiles which were blessed with a pristine glow was now at the mercy of tapping shoes and swaying dresses.

However, none of this interested Grey. He didn't even put any effort into dressing for the occasion and went with his usual monochrome uniform. His sole objective tonight was to try and woo Riliane Kingsley, but he guessed it wouldn't be too hard. She was a loose woman, after all.

It wasn't long until Wynn Kingsley-alluringly clad to the point where women became enamored-finally arrived. Though, the anticipated guest wasn't within his company. "Dashing as ever. I assume your sister is as equally charming tonight?"

The usual grin Wynn would make at the mention of his sister did not appear. Instead he sighed, heaving something off his chest. "Grey I just want you to know..."

He rolled his eyes, finding it impossible how one man could hold his kid sister with so much obsessive protectiveness.

"Riliane isn't some toy, or some prostitute you can pick up on the streets."

Grey nodded in compliance, but secretly disagreed. _Riliane was a soiled dove._

"She is my princess, not your conquest."

His last breath hitched in his throat at that utterance. He could have sworn that he'd heard those exact words elsewhere.

"...Where is she?"

"She'll be with us in a moment. She has some business to deal with."

He pressed his lips thin, wondering what business a woman like her had but reluctantly decided to drop it in favor of brewing some _small talk_ with Wynn. "It will be a bothersome job."

He sighed, seeming to be already weary of the position. "Likely so. But it can't be helped. I have considered the consequences, but I'll just have to do what I can."

"I suggest you look for associates to be kept up to date on underground information. England's dark side is pretty widespread." After Grey finished scanning the mob of rich fabric once more, he hadn't expected the confused look Wynn was giving him.

"Why would _I_ need associates?"

In the edges of his vision Grey could spot Phantomhive and his annoyingly dressed fiancée, but that's not what had suddenly caught his interest. The brat was speaking to a young lady fitted in a gown so stark white that it out-shined Grey. They would have matched if it weren't for the golden flavors of lace befitting her curves. He could tell, not from the familiar ebony curls, but from the perfectly exposed shoulders that this was his bride to be.

When she turned around towards some glass-paned doors, the first glimpse of her face had rendered Grey as breathless as earlier.

"Lo and behold..." Grey grinned slowly, a fire rekindling in his eyes. "The girl who lived at the end of Forever."

...

* * *

**a/n:**

**So who saw that coming? :D...I think I made it obvious ._.**

**Anyway, thanks for reading and sorry for the short chapter—just needed to start setting things in motion. Next one will finally be in Riliane's POV.**

**Review, please~ I'd love to hear what you guys think so far :3**


	6. Chapter 5: Her Identity, Questioning

****Big thanks to _Night Blooming Rose, L's faithful fan, Ai13Singe_, and _god of Twilight_ for reviewing on previous chapters

And a thanks to those who favourited, followed, or even glance at this! :D

* * *

**.:Chapter Five:.**

_**"Her Identity, Questioning"**_

* * *

...

The carriage announced itself with its onslaught of rhythmic trotting. To those it passed it was nothing more than a black shape teetering across a darkening backdrop. It tipped and swayed along the uneven path through the countryside, making the coachman and the party inside rather uncomfortable.

Riliane had done everything in her own power to convince Wynn that she did not want to attend the Midford's soiree, but all her preciously feigned tears and puppy stares were a waste unless he actually looked at her face, which he refused to do. Instead he convinced her to accompany him at the mention of Ciel Phantomhive. She reluctantly agreed, seeing it as a chance to remake her first impression.

The dispute she and Ciel had had lead to an interesting brawl between their butlers, which seemed to have gotten rather personal. Long story short; Riliane had gotten anxious watching Damian narrowly dodge near-fatal blows and had ran in between them right when Sebastian was about to deal him a good one. The latter ended up piercing her dear friend through the heart regardless, though Damian didn't flinch or even cry out in pain. He firmly took Riliane by the chin and reminded her in a harsh, chastising tone that he was not human. Petty "flesh wounds" like that was nothing to him.

Sebastian was declared the victor after wards and Ciel had triumphantly dismissed her as nothing more than a brat. Yet, she managed to shoot his ego back down to size not long after.

It was the end of her thoughts when the castle-like estate floated into view. She rolled her eyes and sighed as she threw another disdainful look at Wynn.

"You'll like it, Rilly." He assured her, and smiled as if he hadn't noticed her chilling glare. Damian showed the same aversive behavior as he helped her out of the carriage.

_They're up to something._

Any ideas or theories on their little secret was tucked away as they ascended the stares. She slipped her hand through Wynn's arm and gave the doorman an enthralling, yet fake, smile. This would be a very tiring night. A room full of aristocratic stuck-ups bragging about their wealth or wellness wasn't exactly her cup of tea. _And I know my tea, _she thought. The only fun thing that came out of this was the pretty dress. She and Damian had handpicked and modified the piece of art she was donning, adding accents of golden lace to the bodice of a once speckless bridal gown. They'd made a matching choker, currently adorned around her neck, which served more than just the purpose of an accessory.

As it was foreseen, adulation expelled through the first groups that laid eyes on that ensemble. Though, when Wynn excused himself to handle business she made sly escapes out of the few conversations she was invited to. Riliane preferred to pass time at the catering tables.

The Midford's taste for design and decor was definitely outstanding. However, she couldn't say the same for their choice of food. The morsels of exotic meat or fish skewered between steamed vegetables were decent and probably the best thing on the tables in her opinion. What she was really picking at were their choice in sweets and pastries. They were, at best, enough to satisfy dogs. But any critiques she had, such as the mousse being too runny or the cake being too dry, were all her own opinions. Not all bakers could graze the height of her standards, and she has eaten _and_ made some of best.

After minutes upon minutes Riliane was still at the table sampling every colourful piece of eatery. The delicately iced cookie she targeted was gone within the blink of an eye. She caught sight of the blue gem gleaming off a hand, and immediately knew the culprit.

"Ciel, it's such a pleasure to see you."

He savored the sweet flavors on his tongue, chewing and swallowing slowly as if to tease her. "I didn't expect your attendance."

"Neither did I," she dead-panned.

"I see Damian is doing well." His eye quickly darted to the man standing guard behind her, a reigning smile creasing his lips when Damian frowned.

Riliane could sense the smugness in his tones, but such taunting did not get to her. They may have left his manor in defeat, but Riliane made sure that he felt no victory when they departed. "Of course he is, but you weren't looking so well when we left."

The face he suddenly had was nothing short of a vicious death glare. "What did you mean the other day?"

She thought about offering him a dissatisfying riddle, but waved the idea away when a brightly-clothed blonde draped her arms along his shoulders.

"Ci~eell!"

"L-Lizzy. I was speaking with someone."

"But I'm soo~ happy to see you! Introduce me to your friend!"

"...This...is Elizabeth Midford, my fiancée." The last word rolled off Ciel's tongue awkwardly, like he'd just gotten used to expressing it. "Elizabeth, this is Riliane Kingsley."

The way Elizabeth's stare gorged on her didn't make Riliane any more comfortable. There was always something about the way nobles stared that was unsettling. If you were beautiful or handsome, rich or famous, or had an attractive spouse, then there would be genuine praise and that would be the _only_ thing that was genuine. The longer they stared the more likely they would end up prying for a fabricated flaw or a more brilliant idea to attain radiance. It was like nobles were trying to out-do each other no matter how shallow the competition. Perhaps that was what nobility was all about; a hollow pursuit of perfection(and sometimes a much darker pursuit of sin).

Nobles always wore masks, drenching whatever is left of their true-self in diamond paint for the sake of face. She has gotten so used to this game that she's adapted to be a skilled player herself, but she plays for an entirely different reason. However, she found all of the falsehoods mundane and quite tiresome, which is why she barely attended any parties last year.

"Oh, so you were the belle of the ball last spring!" To the public, she was an ephemeral. Allowing only an eyeful of a glimpse before disappearing until next social season. "Your dress is so beautiful. Please, just call me Lizzy!"

"It's a pleasure to be of your acquaintance, Lizzy." Riliane smiled shyly beneath her watchful eyes. "Your mansion is beautiful and your parents have thrown such a lovely party."

"Oh, don't mention it! It's so nice to meet you, I'm sure we'll become great friends!" Elizabeth didn't seem like she ran with the usual mob of aristocracy, but as important first impressions were they weren't always accurate.

Riliane found her chirpy nature refreshing, but the overly intimate attitude was a bit too much. She couldn't picture Ciel being wed to a cheery girl like her nor had she expected him to even agree to it. It was too soon to judge, but there seemed to be so little romance between them. A recurring aspect of arranged marriages, and perhaps that was the case.

"I'm gad I don't come off as unapproachable."

"Nonsense. I think everyone is just shocked by how cute you are."

"Thank you, Lizzy. It's an honor to meet the future Countess Phantomhive, but would you mind allowing me to speak to your fiance in private?"

There was some moment's awkwardness when Elizabeth hesitated, but she agreed when Ciel assured her it was purely business. She then pointed the both of them toward the unoccupied balcony. Damian tagged along to chaperone them to avoid any nasty gossip, staying in skilled butler mode as he blended into the background. Surprisingly, Sebastian wasn't anywhere near by.

The crisp, evening air hit all three of them like the first drops of spring rain. It was such a relieving transition from a room thickened with deharmonized voices and body heat. Riliane was the first to retreat to the stone ledge, looking over the the vast area of life touched by the dark. There was a patch at the center where, when it wasn't laddened with night, must have been a brilliant bed of pink or red-violet. She could recognize the perfume of lilacs and hydrangeas, snap-dragons and buttercups. The garden must have held a lovely amount of variety. She couldn't spot it anywhere, but she could hear the sound of running water in the distance.

The peace was interrupted by the sound of wrought iron scraping against concrete. She turned around to see Ciel seating himself at a table, in one of its many matching chairs. A lit candle rested between them, acting as a mediator of light.

"You seat yourself before helping to seat a lady?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot my manners."

She rolled her eyes, and in spite of the crippling weight of the fabric she chose to remain standing. The chorus of night poured in again, nothing occurring other than a stare down for several long moments.

"I want to know just who you are. Who you really are and what exactly you meant the other day."

Riliane scoffed, breaking eye contact to pull out a white-laced fan she didn't really need. It wasn't long until they reestablished their usual optical connection again. "To be honest, that just slipped out because I was a bit upset. I was unsure if it had something to do with you."

"_What_ had something to do with me?"

Her eyes shifted to the transparent panes of the door, which made the view into the lighted ballroom clear. Despite the lack of light in their own setting it must have been as equally effortless to see from the other side.

"I would like to meet with you in private some time, then. But I'm through talking to the middle man. When will I actually get to speak to your brother?"

The evening song slipped in between their words again. Riliane blinked, but quickly pieced together Ciel's misconception.

"Middle man?" She laughed an airy giggle that almost sounded demented. "You think _I'm_ the middle man?"

The candle-light flinched at windless movement and Sebastian was at Ciel's side as quick as it flickered back into place.

"Ciel, you're horribly mistaken."

...

* * *

...

He entered the ballroom by himself, the obedient shadow not by his side. Ciel had sent Sebastian to find the rest of the information needed to prosecute their suspect. It was a mild, and quite ironic, case. Just a string of robberies and goods gone missing in the Black Market. But it was a meager side-dish next to the towering pile he already had on his plate. He had no time to be wasting attending parties like this, but it was Lizzy's begging that did him in.

He sighed, having just arrived and already tired from the crowded setting. It would only be a matter of months before Lizzy was free to drag him anywhere and everywhere. With how things were going in England, he would be getting close to nothing done, especially tonight.

That is, until he saw Riliane Kingsley by the catering tables.

He found himself captivated by her eyes during the intervals between their words. They were haunting, like the ocean during a storm. Two black whirlpools swirled endlessly in the middle of that eerie sea.

"Of course he is, but you weren't looking so well when we left."

If he hadn't known better, he could have sworn those whirlpools were a path to hell. "What did you mean the other day?"

Before Riliane could reply in what mostly likely was a play on words, Lizzy had leaped onto him. How she had always found ways to shock him was a shock itself. He loved his cousin nonetheless, but he was hoping to talk business with Wynn Kingsley and maybe interrogate his sister.

Ciel got the latter after Lizzy and Riliane exchanged some words. However, he found that he wouldn't be needing to speak with Wynn anymore.

The yellow hues from the candle danced across her features in par with her disturbed laughter. The sudden movement of light made her flicker like ghost, and suddenly he recognized Sebastian's presence beside him.

"Ciel, you're horribly mistaken."

"..._You're_ the second watchdog?"

He mentally slapped himself for being so stupid. How could he have not seen it before? And a woman? He couldn't tell if this was his pride lecturing him or his chivalry.

"You've been silent for a while."

"I did not expect a plot twist like this. I was almost certain it was your brother, and not you, who would be dirtying his hands"

Another light giggle echoed. "Don't worry, you've missed a commonly overlooked detail."

She let out a small, satisfied sigh that extinguished all the certainty Ciel had about his rival. "That my family is a bit different from yours, and most. You see, the Kingsley household is a monarchy of it's own. A monarchy of women. It is the men's job to hold the air of normality while we accomplish goals below the surface."

Ciel scoffed, causing Riliane to throw him a mean, almost dangerous look. Growing tired of being still, she began to pace about.

"Our family," she continued ," like yours, has been here to do the crown's bidding since the beginning of England. We were once equal to you, but we were never as blindly loyal and so over generations we were demoted." When she turned back to face him, that storm suddenly became dangerous and he found himself trapped on a boat amidst the violent sea. "But with me, that's been changed and soon everything else will follow."

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"Because that is the most I have to convince you that I want a fair and honest game."

"And how does telling me this make things fair?

"I've started off knowing more about you than you do me. Why not make it even?"

His eyes narrowed. Riliane knew, and was definitely far more than she let on. "Even? If you want to make things even then tell me; are you really Heinz Kingsley's daughter?"

Her grin remained as always, though it had lost some of it's luster. "No, but I _am_ a Kingsley."

_I knew it. An imposter. _"Enough with your damned riddles!" This woman was infuriating. Not only that, but she had no right to be where she stood, nor did she deserve to have so many cards played in her favor. _What a cleverly disguised pigeon in a flock of doves. _ "I want a straight forward explanation. Who exactly are you?"

"I have been nothing but honest to you. Put the rest of the pieces together yourself."

"You are the type of woman who makes enemies."

Her face was placid and cold. "No. I'm just willing to do more than idle behind a man's wealth. It's because I'm a woman that you find me so threatening to your pride."

If looks could kill, then Ciel's gaze would have been firing hundreds of bullets through her head. _Damn it._ He had towers of mysteries piled high on his desk. He didn't need another.

Any possibility of further question was finished, Riliane and Damian had begun taking their leave.

"Excuse me, " This time it was Sebastian who called out, making the two stop in their tracks. "I am curious, m'lady. You are not the contractor, but a demon needs absolute word from their master. How exactly do you and Damian intend to work?"

Riliane didn't speak, she didn't even turn to acknowledge the question.

"Wynn gave me the order to treat her every word as if it were his." Damian answered, looking over his shoulder to give them a vicious smirk.

_What a rotten child,_ Ciel thought bitterly.

"Damian."

"Yes, Princess~?"

"Be quiet."

The order sounded more somber than domineering and for a brief moment, right before she floated back into the ballroom, he saw something carved into the skin of her neck. It was only a partial view, the rest of the scar hidden under her choker and a curtain of black, but it was enough that it settled into a permanent place in his mind.

"Interesting girl, young master."

"Shut up." Ciel sunk deep into his thoughts, 'putting the pieces together'. Who was she? How did she end up under Earl Kingsley's name? And of her brother? If that was even her brother to begin with.

...

* * *

...

She did not savor the fact that Ciel was so bent on figuring out who she was. She understood the curiosity of it, the need to know who exactly the other player is and what they were like-but her past and especially _that man_ was something seldom spoken of, and she preferred to keep it that way.

"You are the type of woman than makes enemies."

It was typical behaviour for noblemen, especially since he's a Phantomhive. They've prided themselves on their connection to the throne for far too long, and Ciel was nothing above a spoiled brat. It was high time that he learned some humility.

After downsizing that ego of his for the second time that week, she and Damian began to exit until Sebastian dared to bring up the subject of Wynn's contract.

"Wynn gave me the order to treat her every word as if it were his."

Everything was handed to her. The people she loved gave her everything, protected her from everything, and did everything for her. And then they died.

"Damian."

"Yes, Princess?" At times like these, she absolutely hated that endearment.

"Be quiet."

Her steps back into the ballroom were hasty, but she needed to keep herself from dipping into the past any further. The last thing she needed were for old flames to reignite.

Oh how merciless was the evening on her.

She was swept up before she could breath in the warm air, seeing nothing but a blur of variant colours as she was whirled around. She caught glimpses of other indistinct figures moving in harmony with her before she was spun around again to meet a face—one she thought she would never see again.

"Grey!?"

"Ah, you remember me~"

...

* * *

**a/n:**

**yay for minor cliffhangers :D Not sure if this story's going at a satisfying pace, so I apologize if it's going a bit slow for you guys. At least Grey and Rilly finally met up again. There are a few other things I want to rant about, but I'll save it. I want to hear what you guys think, and what you're foreseeing. I'm really curious xD**

**Also, I apologize since this chapter was done a week late. I had some distractions and school is still a cockblock =.=**


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